


Christmas

by KagSesshlove



Series: Grade School [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: ENJOY IT, Gen, also, batfam, because damian knows a criminal when he sees one, but he has good intentions, damian is crazy, he only wants to save the world from the horror that is santa claus, in summer, not unusual, obviously, santa has mind control powers, the elves are enslaved aliens, this is a christmas special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7072273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagSesshlove/pseuds/KagSesshlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Setup

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023615) by [pupeez4eva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pupeez4eva/pseuds/pupeez4eva). 



> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. 
> 
> This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It’s marvelous. 
> 
> Also, I’m aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra’s and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian’s lack of awareness is comedy gold.

“All right, class! There’s only a little bit of time left in the last day of school before break, so we’re going to do something fun.”

Damian scowled as Andrews handed a stack of paper to each of them in the front row. He took one and passed the rest back, cocking an eyebrow at the design on the sheet in front of him. It was pointlessly decorative.

( _How exactly is this supposed to be fun_?)

“Everyone have one? Good. Now, today, we’re going to write letters to Santa! Tell him what you want and then you’ll give the letters to your parents to send to the North Pole. Santa’s elves will make your gifts, and then, on Christmas Eve, when he’s delivering gifts to everyone, he’ll make a stop in Gotham and bring your gifts to you! But only if you’re good”

Damian was stunned at the cheers from his classmates. He’d heard Grayson mention this “Santa Claus” a number of times in the past few weeks, but only in passing. Damian had figured that Grayson was talking about some sort of tradition that accompanied the useless decorating and singing that Grayson had been subjecting them to. But this? He should have been paying more attention, but it’d become a habit to tune Grayson out whenever he mentioned anything about Christmas; he could go on for hours.

“What?” he asked sharply.

Andrews’ turned to him hesitantly. “Yes, Damian? Is there a problem?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Yes, there’s problem. How exactly can this _Santa Claus_ use _elves_ to make the things I want? If I asked for an 18 th century katana from Japan in pristine condition, it would be nothing more than a forgery.”

She cleared her throat. “Umm… well, Damian, Santa can do anything. Right, kids?”

The widespread affirmative from his classmates was nauseating.

“Anything?” Damian questioned, leaning forward in his seat and cocking an eyebrow. “Even if he could manage to have one made without it being a forgery – an impossible feat – what’s the catch?”

“Catch?”

“Yes, Andrews. Or are you naïve enough to believe that a stranger would give you everything you asked for without an ulterior motive? Is he doing this to place me in his debt? Does he plan to extort or blackmail me in the future? Or to gain my loyalty and gratitude in order to use me? Or perhaps these gifts he’s giving are secretly mind-control devices that he intends to activate in order to enslave the human race?”

She gaped at him, and the rest of the class was silent. Damian snorted and leaned back. Obviously, they’d never taken the time to consider this before.

( _Fools. It’s amazing they’re still alive_.)

“Damian!” Andrews exclaimed. “No! That’s not- Santa… is a good person. He delivers things because he cares.”

“Oh, really?” Damian replied coolly. “A good person? You don’t think he has any ulterior motives? At the very least, you should question the logistics. How does one man deliver presents to _everyone_? That Is what you said, isn’t it? That he delivers presents to everyone? How exactly does he accomplish that? Earth’s population exceeds 7 billion. How does he manage to do all of this on Christmas Eve? And how does he get into people houses? Breaking and entering, correct? He breaks into people’s houses and leaves suspicious objects – but he hasn’t been arrested? Has he been vetted? Has any organization provided a background check on Claus? Well?”

His classmates looked confused and wary, which was a natural reaction considering they had previously been unaware of the danger this man presented. But Andrews just looked shocked. Perhaps it was because she was older; after so many years of placing her unquestioning trust in this man, it was natural that she was more hesitant to accept what Damian was saying.

“Damian,” she began weakly.

“No, Andrews. It’s foolish to imagine that this man doesn’t mean any harm. Besides, you did say he had… elves, didn’t you? The number of elves needed in order to make presents for every person in the world in would be enormous. And he keeps them all at his base – the North Pole? Keeping that many individuals in such a small geographical area likely leads to disease. Not to mention the sort of working quarters they must have. And the hours they’d have to work. I’d imagine it would be comparable to sweatshops – only worse. And do these elves have a choice in the matter? Are they indentures servants – slaves?”

“I- I… No, the elves-“

“And what about me? You said that he delivers presents to everyone. But, when I was living with my mother, I never heard of this Santa Claus. And he never delivered a single present to me.”

Not that it was surprising, when he considered it. Transgressing on Ra’s a Ghul’s territory would have meant death. Unless he simply didn’t deliver presents because they were assassins.

“And you said that he only delivers presents to people who are ‘good’. What does that mean? How does he determine who’s good when he spends all of Christmas Eve breaking the law? It’s hypocritical. And how would he know if people were good or bad to begin with? Is he stalking people? Does he spend the rest of the year illegally monitoring the actions of every denizen on earth? And beyond? Is it just earth? Or does he deliver presents to the inhabitants of other worlds? Is it localized to our planet because he’s planning a hostile takeover? How did you learn of this Santa Claus anyway? Where did he come from? Do you know anything about him other than that he claims to be a benevolent soul who “rewards” good people and ignores bad people? Or have you been wallowing in ignorance your whole life, content to believe that Claus is good and not looking past the surface?”

He stared at her challenging, but she didn’t respond. Not that he expected her to. He’d just ripped her beliefs apart. She’d need time to recover.

Damian turned to his classmates, who all appeared horrified, some even on the verge of tears. “This is likely hard for you all, but you have to inform your parents of the dangers of allowing this man his freedom. Tell them to increase security and strengthen the perimeters of your homes. It’s unlikely that you’ll be able to keep him out, but you should try, regardless.”

The bell rang then, and Damian frowned. He was unsure if any of them had processed his warning, but it was too late now. He stood deliberately, grabbing his things and walking up to his teacher.

“Andrews. I know this is hard for you to believe, but take this to heart. Now that you know the truth, things might be different for you. It’s likely that his influence was behind your utter incompetence, and, now that you’re free from him, I expect things will go much smoother in your life.”

She let out a strangled sound, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Barricade your house as well, Andrews. Good luck.”

Damian walked out of the class, brow furrowed in determination. He was going to capture Santa Claus and reveal his machinations to the world.

But first, he had to free his family.

* * *

 

Steph pushed open Damian’s door carelessly. “I hope you’re decent!”

She grinned at the scowl he shot her.

“Brown.”

“Dami! What are you doing in here? You’re too young to be a moody teenager. Let’s go watch trashy reality TV together.”

She was sure he was going to scoff and then grudgingly agree, but an assessing gleam entered his eyes. She stepped back.

( _Abort.)_

“Actually, you know what-“

“Brown, come here,” he demanded, closing his laptop.

She grinned weakly. “You know, I don’t think-“

“It’s important, Brown. It can’t wait. We can watch as many of those stupid shows as you want later. I have to talk to you about something.”

She stared at him. He was serious. And he didn’t look like he was about to strangle her for “suggesting he defile himself by watching such crass television programs”. She closed the door and stepped into his room fully, walking over to sit in front of him on his bed.

“What is it?”

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, eyeing her gravely. “I had intended to create a slideshow presentation and address everyone, but perhaps it’s better to do this one at a time.”

“Do what? Dami, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

She swallowed thickly. “Damian?”

“But, it all comes down to Santa Claus.”

“…”

( _Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.)_

Steph forced herself to breathe and opened her eyes. She didn’t even remember closing them.

“Damian… what exactly is the problem with… Santa Claus?”

How had that come out of her mouth? Her acting skills were obviously getting better. As was her self-control.

Damian sighed, pursing his lips. “Today in class, Andrews was talking about Santa Claus. And, Brown, I know this will be hard for you to hear, but… you need to know that Santa Claus is not who you think he is.”

“He’s not?” she asked, her voice strained with the effort of not laughing.

He was taking Santa Claus so seriously; it was hilarious.

“No. Santa Claus is a criminal.”

He was looking at her like he was expecting her to cry or something. Steph stared at him, her mind racing.

( _Okay, how am I going to play this? This is an excellent opportunity. I can’t let it go to waste. Think. Think. Oh_!)

“And… how do you know this, exactly?”

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he leaned forward. “Logic and research. The elves are his slaves – likely not elves and instead aliens who he’s captured and forced into hard labor. He stalks every person on the planet all year long and then breaks into their houses on one night, leaving suspicious objects – likely intended to manipulate his victims and force them into his thrall. A subtle magic. And it’s obvious he has magic; I’m surprised I haven’t heard of him before, given how powerful he obviously is. My research also shows that he’s a shapeshifter and a sadist, who goes by different names depending on the culture. From what I’ve gathered, many people assume he is a myth, and most others assume he is benevolent. The truth is that he’s hell-bent on taking over the world and setting himself up as some sort of god to be worshipped – there are songs dedicated to him, Brown! He’s a violent, depraved psychopath who needs to be brought to justice.”

He stared at her intently. She stared back.

How was she supposed to respond to that? Damian was crazy, but it also made a strange sort of sense. Or, it would. If Santa were real.

The best course of action -  the only course available – was to play this up.

Steph swallowed and nodded. “I… wow. That… Damian, that makes a lot of sense. What do we do?”

He smiled at her slightly, and it almost made her feel bad that she was playing him. But this was going to be hilarious; the guilt didn’t last long.

“I’m glad to see you believe me, Brown. And that you’re taking this seriously. Claus is a big problem, and quite possibly the most dangerous criminal on the planet. Yet the Justice League hasn’t’ captured him, meaning even the most powerful people in the world are under his control – it might be passive right now, just preventing them from arresting him, but it could easily escalate into active mind control. We have to stop him. The first thing we have to do is convince the others that Claus is dangerous and needs to be apprehended. Then I’m sure Father can speak to the rest of the League. We should-”

“No, no, no!”

He scowled at her. “What?”

She bit her lip, racking her brain for an excuse. “I- um… don’t you think it might be a bad idea to talk to Brue about it? Or Alfred? Or… Dick?”

His scowl became more pronounced. “We can’t just leave them under his control!”

“No, I know! But, maybe, we should work on capturing him first? Like, um… If he really is as powerful as we think, he’d probably just retaliate if we tried to remove Batman from his influence. Not to mention, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick have… been under his control a lot longer. It might be harder to remove them from it. It would be better if we have proof.”

He pouted, but nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. When I told my class, Andrews seemed most resistant to the truth.”

She bit back a laugh. “You told your class that Santa was a criminal?”

“Tt. Obviously. As Robin, it’ my duty to do everything in my power to save people. Claus is a threat; I couldn’t leave them uniformed.”

“Damian, I’m so proud of you.”

“Don’t cry over it,” he muttered, looking away from her.

She was actually trying not to laugh, but it was better he thought that. “Yeah. Sorry. Um… how about I bring the other three around, okay? I’ll talk to them about it, and you can make a plan.”

He nodded. “It might take a while. We’ll have to be careful, given all he’s accomplished so far.”

She nodded seriously and stood up. “Of course. I’ll go talk to them now. Thanks for telling me, Damian.”

He sniffed. “Of course, Brown. You’re an idiot, but that doesn’t mean I want you under Claus’ control.”

She grinned. “Nice to know you care.”

“Shut up!”

* * *

 

Cass looked up when Steph burst into her room, laughing maniacally.

“Cass! Damian thinks Santa Claus is a vicious criminal that needs to be stopped and that he’s influencing everyone in the world and I want him to believe this all through Christmas. We’re not telling Alfred, Bruce, or Dick, but he’s trusting me to bring you, Jason, and Tim around. Please?”

Cass blinked, processing everything she’d said. “That sounds fun.”

Steph grinned. “It will be.”

* * *

 

“Thanks for the help,” Jason grunted, holstering his guns and turning to Steph and Cass.

He blinked in confusion when Cass stepped up to him and stopped just a few inches away. It was mildly disconcerting considering she was in full costume.

“Uhh… I haven’t done anything, have I?”

“Help us.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, not that she could see it, but she could probably read his confusion in his posture. He looked around at the unconscious thugs on the ground and turned back to his sister.

“Help with what?”

Steph bounced over to them. “Robin’s helping us prank him.”

Jason stared.

Cass shook her head. “Too confusing.”

“Right. Wanna’ play a prank on Robin?”

“A Christmas prank,” Cass added.

Jason, was, admittedly, still confused. “Definitely. When?”

“Soon.”

“We’ll fill you in on the rest later. We just needed you to agree. I have to tell him that you believe Santa is a criminal.”

A bark of laughter escaped Jason’s throat. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Jason grinned and swung an arm around each of their shoulders. “I’m so happy this is my life. Let’s go beat up some lowlife goons and then you two can tell me about what sort of insanity Robin’s cooked up this time.”

( _Damian’s the best younger brother. Sorry, Tim_.)

* * *

 

Tim walked into the kitchen, determinedly ignoring the way Steph, Cass, and Jason were looking at him. He had no idea what they were planning, but it was probably something stupid that was going to get them in trouble. He wanted no part in it.

“So, Timmy,” Jason began.

Tim rolled his eyes, refilling his coffee cup half-way. Then he opened up his energy drink and poured it into the coffee, turning to Jason casually. “Yes, Jay-Jay?”

He scowled. “You’re going to develop a heart condition.”

Tim threw the can in the recycling bin and shrugged, grabbing a spoon. “Was that all?”

“Sit down, Timothy,” Steph said, patting the stool next to her.

He sighed and took a seat at the table, as far away from the three of them as possible. He raised an eyebrow.

Steph rolled her eyes and snorted. “You’re going to help us with our newest plan. You’re the final piece of the puzzle.”

_(She’s being purposefully cryptic.)_

“No, thank you.”

“It’s easy,” Cass said.

“I’ve got things to do.”

Jason leaned forward. “You want to mess with your little brother?”

Tim stood up and walked over to the stool next to Steph. “You should have led with that. What are we doing? Dying his costume pink? I’m all for dying his costume pink. I think I have the chemicals in my nightstand.”

“I feel like you have an unhealthy enthusiasm for this,” Jason said, grinning.

“Don’t mock me, Jason. I’m allowed to enjoy my early Christmas present.”

His brother snickered, turning to Cass and Steph. “Yeah, it’s going to be awesome. Apparently, Damian is doing all the work for us. All we have to do is keep it running until Christmas.”

“What does that mean?”

“Damian thinks Santa is evil,” Cass murmured.

Tim blinked. He stirred his coffee, taking a sip. “This is because of school, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“I feel like I should write a note thanking Bruce for this. And the administration. And his teacher,” he muttered, grinning at them. “He thinks Santa Claus is a criminal?”

“With evil mind controlling powers,” Steph added.

“Oh. Oh, this is wonderful. Dick is going to be heartbroken.”

“We’re not telling him,” Jason interjected.

“Obviously not,” Tim scoffed. “He’d ruin everything. I’m just saying, if he knew.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Tim.”

Tim smirked. “All right. Let’s move on to the good stuff. Tell me everything.”

Steph smiled, clapping her hands together. “Gladly.”


	2. One Step Forward...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. 
> 
> This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It’s marvelous. 
> 
> Also, I’m aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra’s and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian’s lack of awareness is comedy gold.

Steph cocked an eyebrow at the way Tim grinned at her.

“I know I’m amazing, but you don’t have to assault me the second I step through the front door.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need to head down to the Cave and find out what Damian’s doing. Cass, Jason, and I have been _ordered_ to keep Dick, Bruce, and Alfred away until Damian’s done with… whatever it is he’s doing down there. I have no idea. He basically lectured us on the evils of Santa Claus and then mentioned something about justice before stalking to the Cave. It was like listening to B actually.”

Steph grinned. “You actually listened?”

Tim scoffed. “Only for the prank.”

She nudged his ribs playfully. “And you didn’t want to be a part of it at first.”

“I told you that you should have led with that. I never actually thought I’d have to say that _Jason_ knows how to convince me to listen better than you do.”

She stuck her tongue out, shrugging his arm off of her shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go see what he’s up to. I’ll report back.”

She saluted, laughing while she strode to the Cave.

( _What’s he doing now?)_

“Dami?” she called, smiling when she saw him sitting at the computer.

He didn’t turn to greet her, not that she was expecting him to.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning on the back of the chair and staring down at him.

“Brown, are you aware of the fact that the Watchtower doesn’t have a Death Ray?”

Choking on air was not a pleasant experience. Granted, it was more pleasant than actually being choked, but still. Overall, unpleasant.

“Why would it have a Death Ray?!”

He scowled at her over his shoulder. “Emergencies, Brown. Obviously.”

“What sort of emergency would warrant the use of a Death Ray?”

“This!” he said, pointing at the screen.

She massaged her temples. This was supposed to be funny, not stressful. “Okay. Start from the beginning.”

He wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. “I’ve been trying to locate Santa Claus’ base at the North Pole, but I am unable to. That means his technology is so advanced that our system is unable to find even a trace of his cloaking tech! Given the fact that it’s impossible to obtain his exact coordinates, it has become necessary to resort to other measures.”

“And those other measures,” Steph said, “include a Death Ray?”

“Yes.”

Steph stared at him blankly. “That… okay. No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No!”

He sighed heavily – like he was the one having to deal with someone trying to destroy the North Pole.

“We would modify the settings of the Death Ray, Brown. It would be similar to an industrial sized Stun Ray. It would render Claus immobile wherever he is, allowing us time to scour the North Pole for the location of his base, render his tech inert, and take him into custody – all before he regains consciousness.”

( _Industrial sized Stun Ray?_ )

She was torn between laughing and feeling utterly horrified. Not fun.

“Where would you even get a Death Ray to modify?

Damian shifted slightly. “I was going to contact my grandfather. I’m sure he’s capable of procuring one for me. At the very least, Santa Claus also appears to be immortal. It makes sense to ask Grandfather if he knows of his whereabouts.”

Damian was ruining this prank. That wasn’t fair.

“Damian. You can’t contact Ra’s al Ghul to ask for Santa’s location.”

“Why not, Brown? It’s for the good of all man-kind!”

“I- no. Hold on. Okay. Just… wait.”

“For what?” he snapped.

“Backup!”

* * *

 

Steph was only a little bit surprised to find that all three of her cohorts had ganged up on Dick to prevent him from getting into the Cave. Dick looked puzzled and amused, but didn’t seem to be giving up. Jason looked about 10 seconds from tackling him.

“Uh, Steph, a little help here?” Dick asked, backing up from Jason slightly. “I think there might be mind control involved.”

Tim snorted, but Steph couldn’t bring herself to find it funny.

“Yeah, okay. Guys, mission aborted.”

Dick blinked, confusion obvious. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, turning to her with his hands on his hips. “What he said.”

“Well, see, it was going to be funny, and we were going to let the prank last until Christmas, but now we have to end it and make Dick convince Damian that asking Ra’s al Ghul for a Death Ray is a bad idea.”

Cass cocked her head.

“Are you serious?”

“That’s a joke right?”

“What is going on here?”

Steph turned to Dick, cringing slightly. She wasn’t going to enjoy this.

“Well, you see, the 4 of us-“

“No way. This is on you.”

“Jason, you were almost as excited about this as Tim!”

“That’s right, let’s blame it on Tim.”

“Actually,” she mused, “that’s a great idea.”

“Hey! If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Damian’s. Back me up, Cass.”

“Steph.”

“Cass! You’re my best friend! You’re not supposed to blame me!”

“Okay! I feel like there’s probably enough blame for all of you to share, but maybe we can get back to the part where Damian’s trying to talk to his _grandfather_ about getting a _Death Ray_?”

Steph smiled, sheepishly. “Right. Okay, so, basically, Damian thinks that Santa Claus is evil and also has mind control powers and he wants to arrest him, but he can’t find him at the North Pole and he figures that his only options are to ask Ra’s if he knows Santa’s location or if he can get him a Death Ray so that we can modify it into a Stun Ray – and I think he wants to attach it to the Watchtower and use it to cover the entire North Pole and then go on an expedition to find Santa before he regains consciousness?”

“I… this would be funny if he wasn’t trying to contact Ra’s,” Tim said faintly.

Jason was choking on air; she was glad she wasn’t the only one who did it.

Cass looked like she was about to escape, which seemed like a pretty good plan. Still.

( _Traitor.)_

Dick took a deep breath; they all looked at him.

“Steph.”

“I know, I know! But it was just a prank. It wasn’t supposed to go this far!”

He snorted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Wasn’t supposed to- ha! This is Damian, Steph! How did you think this was going to go?”

She gaped. “Okay. Fair point.”

Dick threw his hands up in the air. “You know what – we’re not done here. The four of you should have known better. But, right now, I have to go and convince him that this is a bad idea! And you’re all coming with me.”

“But-“

“Nope! You’re coming. Let’s go.”

Steph cringed along with the others, but there wasn’t any arguing with Dick when he got this way.

She sighed.

_(It was supposed to be funny.)_

* * *

 

“Damian?”

Damian frowned as he turned around. Brown had brought all of them. _And Grayson._

“Brown! Why did you let him come?” he hissed.

She couldn’t even bring backup without ruining the operation.

( _Unless she managed to convince him.)_

“Actually, Dami-“

“Did you tell him the truth? And he believed you?” Damian wasn’t smiling – of course not – but it was a close thing.

He was relieved – understandably so. It was hard enough not being able to tell his father and Pennyworth about the situation, but leaving out Grayson as well?

It had been difficult.

“Well, it’s not-“

“Good. Now we can move on. I’ve decided that asking for Claus’ location first is the best course of action. And I don’t see why Grandfather wouldn’t know. But, in case he doesn’t-“

“Damian!”

Damian frowned at his eldest brother, eyeing the others carefully. They were all standing behind Grayson, avoiding eye contact.

( _No.)_

“Damian,” Grayson began softly. “There’s no need to contact Ra’s. Santa isn’t bad, Damian. He’s actually a good-“

“I can’t believe this!” Damian shouted, standing from his seat and glaring at them. “You told him? Brown, you were the one who told me not to mention anything to him!”

She winced and smiled weakly. “Yeah, but… he’s actually right, Damian.”

His eyes widened, and he took a step back. “He has you back under his thrall!”

“What? No-“

“Damian, that is not what’s happening here.”

“Shut up, Grayson. That’s exactly what’s going on. But why?”

“No, Damian, it was a prank,” Brown said.

The other nodded along stiffly. Damian grit his teeth.

“Listen, Little D. They were being idiots and playing a joke on you. Sort of. Santa isn’t evil, all right? He brings people presents and doesn’t have any mind control or cloaking abilities.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he should do. He had managed to convince them of the truth only for them to fall back under Claus’ control. Yet, there was no memory loss or relapse; they still acknowledged that he had convinced them and were now making excuses for why they had believed him.

This was the most sophisticated mind-control technique he had ever encountered.

He had no idea how to beat it.

And he had no idea why they had suddenly fallen under Claus’ control again.

Could it have been a defense mechanism? Maybe…

( _I’m getting close!)_

Damian snarled. “He’s increasing his hold on you because I’m getting close, isn’t he?

“What? No!”

Grayson looked shocked – overly shocked. As though he were trying to convince Damian that his conclusions were off the mark. And the others were making odd, strangled sounds, like they couldn’t process what was happening. Their reactions only served to further convince Damian of the accuracy of his assessment.

“Listen to me, Damian, you are not getting close. At all. Contacting Ra’s will not help you find Santa!”

“You know, Dick,” Drake began, “you sound really suspicious.”

“Shut up, Tim! You’re so not helping!”

Damian eyed them curiously, unsure how to proceed. He was obviously right – and Drake was playing to his natural paranoia in order to throw him off the scent. Clever. But Damian was much too intelligent for Santa Claus.

The best course of action would be to feign reluctant acceptance and retreat to his room where he could think things through without interruption.

( _How can I do it without raising their suspicions?)_

“Dami, look,” Grayson pleaded. “Just… don’t contact your grandfather. And let the whole evil Santa thing, go, okay? Santa’s great! He gives presents and he’s not creepy or trying to take over the world or anything, I promise. You trust me, right?”

Damian suppressed a smirk. Santa was playing right into his hands.

He forced a scowl. “Yes, Grayson, I trust you. But-“

“Then trust that I would never tell you anything that could hurt you.”

Damian stared at Grayson, then nodded. “… Very well, Grayson. You had better not be wrong.”

He smiled, relieved. “I’m not. Promise.”

Damian sniffed, nodding shortly and stalking out of the Cave.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Todd muttered.

“Of course it did,” Brown rejoined. “It’s Dick.”

Damian smiled grimly as he walked to his room.

Santa Claus was an idiot if he thought that he had managed to fool him. But Damian wouldn’t fall for his manipulations. He was going to bring Santa Claus down one way or another. And he was going to make him pay for brainwashing his family.

And for trying to use Grayson against him.

When Damian got finished with Claus, the man would be wishing that Damian had simply decided to use a Death Ray to take him out.

* * *

 

Damian sat at his desk, his notebook laid out in front of him. He needed to organize his thoughts. He no longer had any allies in the house, and it wasn’t worth the hassle to converting anyone over to his side again; that would only serve to tip them off, and likely push Claus into making them keep a closer eye on him.

That wouldn’t do.

He had to look at this from a different angle.

Damian grabbed his pencil, tapping the paper idly.

He could still contact his grandfather – not for the Death-Ray-Turned-Stun-Ray, but for Claus’ location. It might be a fruitful endeavor, considering the mere suggestion had made Claus panic enough to resort to active mind control, but…

What if he was wrong?

What if his grandfather did indeed trust Claus?

It was possible. His grandfather had been alive for centuries, and Claus had been around for even longer. What if, when his grandfather was a child, Claus had delivered gifts to him? Then his grandfather could be under Claus’ control.

But that wouldn’t explain why Claus hadn’t delivered gifts to Damian when he had still been with the League of Assassins. Unless, of course, his grandfather and Claus were in league together.

But then Damian would have heard of him by now, surely!

“Ugh!”

( _This is giving me a headache_.)

Okay, no contacting his grandfather – the whole thing was too complicated for him to sort out.

He just needed to write down the facts and go from there:

  * Santa Claus is evil and needs to be stopped
  * My allies have once again been lost to Claus’ thrall
  * Claus thinks that I have given up on my pursuit of him
  * My grandfather is an unknown variable
  * I do not have the capabilities to locate Claus on my own
  * I need to locate Claus in order to move forward with my plan to capture and detain him



Damian set down his pencil and furrowed his brow. Currently, his most pressing problem was locating Santa Claus. But he didn’t know how to get past his cloaking tech. As much as it pained him to admit it, he wasn’t skilled enough to find Claus’ base with just a general location.

Drake could probably do it, but there was no chance of securing his assistance now. And if he were to ask for advice on how to go about doing it on his own, his true plan would be discovered; Drake and the others were likely still on high alert.

But, there was someone else he could ask. Someone who wouldn’t suspect his true intentions and report back to Santa Claus.

Damian smirked and grabbed his cellphone.

( _Thank goodness Grayson decided to preprogram my speed-dial._ )

“Hello? Damian?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Gordon. I require your expertise.”

The silence on the other end was unnerving. Had Santa Claus set _all_ of his agents on alert?

“What can I do for you, Damian?” Gordon responded, her voice dry, but not distrustful.

His shoulders relaxed at her obvious ignorance. Waging a one-man war against an immortal, serial-criminal with mind control powers was more stressful than he had anticipated.

“You’re skilled with computers, Gordon; I’d like for you to teach me how to locate someone. I have their general location, but I need to know how to find their exact coordinates when they’re in possession of an advanced cloaking system.”

“A cloaking system? Did Tim already try?”

“No. This is something I’m doing without the others’ knowledge.”

He wondered if that was saying too much.

“The others don’t know? You haven’t told them? Not even Dick or Bruce?”

“No.”

“But you’re calling me?”

Her incredulity wasn’t unfounded, but it still made him groan. He didn’t have time for this.

“Yes, Gordon. And I would appreciate your discretion.”

“…Right. Well, cloaking systems normally give off a distinct energy signature. Not that I’m saying that the signature is the same for all cloaking systems, but it’s distinctive enough that if you’re looking for it, it’ll show up as a discrepancy or irregularity.”

“And if it’s so advanced that it doesn’t give off such a signature?”

“Well, if it’s not showing up at all, it’s more than likely that there _isn’t_ a cloaking device in the area you’re looking at. Did you already try this out?  Maybe you have the wrong location.”

“Tt,” Damian gritted his teeth. “Of course. Call back if you’re capable of giving any useful advice, Gordon.”

Damian hung up and glared at his phone in distaste. He should have expected Claus to have safeguards in place to prevent anyone from giving out information that could lead to the discovery of his compound in the North Pole.

He banged his fist on the table.

Santa Claus was five steps ahead of him; he had no idea how he was supposed to find him. But Damian wasn’t going to give up.

By the time Christmas rolled around, Damian would have Santa Claus in his custody. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Claus wasn’t going to spend another year committing crimes with impunity.

Damian wouldn’t allow it.

* * *

 

Dick stared blankly at his phone.

“You all right, Dickiebird?” Jason asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You look like you just got a call from Damian’s school or something.”

Tim peered at him over his coffee mug. “That’s a disturbingly accurate description.”

Dick’s expression didn’t change when he looked at them. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to bother with expressions right now.

“That was Barbara. She was calling to tell me that she just got off the phone with Damian. Apparently, he wants to know how to find someone if he has their general location, but their actual base is hidden by a cloaking device. And he doesn’t want any of us to know what he’s up to. That’s not suspicious at all, right.”

Tim had the decency the look sheepish. Jason just snorted.

“Honestly, I’m not even surprised it didn’t work. He was pretty adamant about the whole Santa thing.”

“No thanks to you!”

( _Oh, look. I still have the energy to raise my voice_.)

“We didn’t think he would try to call Ra’s, Dick.”

Dick sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not about Ra’s, Tim. …Okay. It’s a little bit about Ra’s. But it’s mostly about the fact that Damian is a little kid and he’s never actually had a real Christmas and you guys let him think Santa was evil when he came to you about it! You could have told him the truth and he might have believed you if you hadn’t entertained him. Now it’s too late!”

“Hey!” Jason said, frowning. “Blame Steph for that. We only got on board after.”

Dick looked at him. “You guys need to be more responsible with him! I’m not going to stop you from messing with – I couldn’t even if I wanted. But it’s Christmas! He doesn’t need bad memories of Christmas, you guys!”

Tim winced slightly. “Yeah, we know.”

Tim elbowed Jason when he opened his mouth.

“Babybird’s right. We’ll make sure not to let him entertain any more fantasies about mythological creatures being evil and trying to take over the world. Promise.”

He groaned. That was probably the best he was going to get from them.

“So,” Tim asked. “What are you going to do? I mean, he obviously didn’t believe you if that phone call’s anything to go by.”

“Nothing. At least not right now. I’ll make sure he doesn’t contact Ra’s, but I don’t honestly think there’s anything else I can do.”

Jason nodded solemnly. “Makes sense. But, you know, since he’s not giving up on this… we’re definitely going to enjoy it. I mean, this is going to be hilarious.”

Tim smothered a laugh. “Absolutely. Uh, I mean… we’re not going to encourage him or anything.”

“And we won’t let him contact anyone dangerous,” Jason affirmed.

“But we’re totally going to enjoy this.”

Dick rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. Maybe if he ignored them, they’d become more responsible brothers. It was unlikely, but talking to them obviously didn’t help.

He stopped at Cass’s room on the way to his own. He knocked on the door frame, peeking his head into the room.

Cass and Steph turned to look at him.

“Shame on you both,” he said, walking away.

“Sorry,” Cass called.

He shook his head at Steph’s laughter.

His family was ruining Christmas.

( _This is so unfair_.)


	3. 200 or so Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence. 
> 
> Note: This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It’s marvelous. 
> 
> Also, I’m aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra’s and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian’s lack of awareness is comedy gold.

Damian heaved a sigh, crossing his arms and sneering at Grayson disdainfully.

Grayson ignored him.

He clapped his hands together and grinned, looking around at all of them. “All right, team-“

“Is this a mission?” Drake asked, arching an eyebrow, but not looking away from his cell phone.  

“I feel like Christmas shopping really shouldn’t be done in a ‘team’. It would ruin the surprise factor,” Brown said, smiling when Cain nodded along with her.

“What surprise? You do realize that no one is ever surprised when they get a gift in this family, right? It’s always, ‘I could tell by the weight and the shape of the package and the fact that you were the one who got it for me and you were in the room when I mentioned it that this is exactly what I wanted.’”

Drake looked up from his phone for the sole purpose of questioning Todd’s sanity. _(A noble goal.)_ “What did you just say?” Drake asked, partly amused, mostly incredulous.

Todd snorted. “We’re detectives. Surprises don’t exist for us.”

“And the reason you refused concision the first time around, Todd?”

“Shut it, brat.”

“Seriously?” Grayson interrupted. “We’re at the mall to shop for Christmas gifts and you guys are arguing? No Christmas spirit! Shame on all of you!”

Damian snorted and rolled his eyes. What was the point of “Christmas spirit” when the entire holiday was just a ruse to disguise the malevolent intentions of one of the most clever and psychotic criminals in history?

“All right,” Grayson said, clapping his hands again. “We’re all going to split up, buy gifts, and then meet back here in 3 hours?”

“I don’t need that long,” Drake protested. “I ordered most of my stuff online.”

“Who needs 3 hours to shop for presents?” Todd groused.

“1 hour then?” Brown proposed.

“I need more time than that!” Grayson objected, throwing his hands in the air unnecessarily.

“2,” Cain said. “That’s enough.”

Grayson sighed, shaking his head. “Organizing patrol isn’t as hard as this,” he muttered. “2 sounds good. You gonna’ be all right on your own, Dami?”

Drake snickered under his breath; Damian shot him a glare.

“I’m more than capable of buying gifts in a shopping mall, Grayson.”

“Yeah, but-“

“He’s not gonna’ shoplift, he’s too mean to talk to strangers, and anyone who tries to kidnap him will either end up hospitalized due to excessive injuries or mental trauma. Demonbrat’ll be fine, Dick. Let’s just get this over with,” Todd grumbled, slinging an arm around Grayson’s shoulders and smirking at Damian’s scowl.

“Those… are all good points. All right, call if you need anything-“

“Freaking mother hen,” Todd said.

“It’s cute,” Cain offered before slipping away with a wave.

“I’d say we should synchronize our watches, but we’ve already done that,” Brown joked, jogging after Cain. “See you in two hours. Don’t cause any chaos unless you get it on video!”

“Pairing up ruins the entire point of buying gifts separately,” Drake sighed before shooting a look at Damian. “Which way are you going? I want to make sure to be on the opposite end of the mall.”

“Like that would save you, Drake,” Damian sneered, stomping off to the nearest escalator.

“Be safe!” Grayson called.

Damian rolled his eyes again and stepped onto the escalator. He froze as soon as he arrived at the second floor.

There, a mere 40 meters away, was the most dangerous man on the planet.

“Claus,” Damian growled.

How dare he? Was he here to mock him? Rub it in his face that he had his entire family bent to his will? Claus didn’t even care that he was revealing himself – and why would he? The masses were surrounding him: children cheering at his presence, parents facilitating their kids’ devotion.

Damian gritted his teeth and stalked forward, determined to confront Santa Claus regardless of the consequences – only to be stopped when a woman stepped in front of him. A woman in striped tights, a ridiculous dress, and curved shoes with bells.

_(What?)_

Damian stared at her blankly. The smile she gave him was nauseating. The way she crouched down to speak to him… that just made him angry.

“Hey there, little guy,” she said, voice saccharine, smile – somehow – growing.

Damian’s whole body twitched.

“Are you here to see Santa?

He forced himself to remain calm, clenching his fists and straightening his back. “I am,” he forced out.

“Is anyone here with you?”

“They’re shopping; they know where I am,” he lied. If they knew where he was, they would undoubtedly force him away -  a defense mechanism implanted by Claus. Unless, of course, the whole purpose of Claus’ presence here was to enable the two of them to speak in person.

“All right, then. Why don’t you get in line? Then you can sit on Santa’s lap and tell him all about what you want for Christmas!”

Damian felt a little sick. He pushed the feeling down and looked past the woman at the line in front of them. _2 hour wait time at this point._ He wanted to smash that sign.

He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. Fine. If that was how Claus wanted to play it, he would wait. He would wait, and then, Claus would realize the error he had made in standing against him – mocking him with this cavalier display – and manipulating his family.

“That sounds perfect,” Damian said quietly, grinning at the woman.

_(Claus won’t know what hit him.)_

* * *

 

Jason snickered at the boxes Tim was carrying. “Pre-wrapped? Sucker.”

The look on his little brother’s face was far from impressed, but why would Jason want to impress a guy who had his presents _professionally wrapped_?

“That is kind of a travesty of Christmas, Timmy,” Dick said, grinning slightly.

Tim huffed. “You don’t get to talk when you waited a week before Christmas to even _start_ shopping,” he said, gesturing to the bags in Dick’s hands.

Jason cocked his head considering. There really were a lot.

“That’s the fun of Christmas, Tim! Gifts are always better when you buy them at the last minute!”

“Or, you’re just a disorganized procrastinator.”

Dick’s grin only grew. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

Tim’s expression went bland. “I’ve tried it.”

Jason and Dick exchanged a look before turning back to Tim.

“Why does that sound less like ‘I procrastinated on buying gifts and it went horribly’ and more like ‘I procrastinated at life and wound up in a downward spiral of despair that I’ve yet to escape from’?” Dick asked, lips quirked in a mix of amused pleasure and worried dread that only Tim was capable causing.

Tim shifted his gifts more securely in his hold and took a long sip of his coffee – because of course he’d stopped for coffee – purposefully maintaining eye contact.

_(Isn’t Dick supposed to be the dramatic one?)_

“Hey!”

Jason gave a careless wave as Steph and Cass approached them. “Something is wrong with Tim.”

“Bit slow on the uptake, Jace,” Steph said, grinning.

Jason smirked. “ _I’m_ slow?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Am I the only one that remembers what happened on April Fool’s Day?”

Tim smirked. “No, I remember.”

Steph threw her head back with a groan. “Oh my gosh! Can we let that go? Let’s make fun of Dick’s horrible fashion sense instead.”

“It is pretty bad,” Tim agreed.

“Hey!” Dick cried.

They ignored him.

Jason scoffed. “You think it was bad? I had to live through that. Firsthand experience.”

“I was there too, you know? I think _that_ is the true source of my trauma.”

“It was awful,” Steph commiserated.

“Excuse you! All of you!” If Dick’s hands had been free, he probably would have thrown them in the air. This was really agitating him. Jason had to remember to bring this up more often. “I have the best fashion sense out of anyone in this family!”

“Lie.”

“You’re lying.”

“Liar.”

“Where’s Damian?”

All four of them turned to Cass, and Jason could practically feel the tension rush into Dick.

“Hey,” Jason began, trying to head off Dick’s panic before it began. Pointless, but Tim was just standing there rolling his eyes, and Steph was just shrugging. ( _They’re no help. This should not be my responsibility.)_ “I’m sure the brat’s fine.”

“Jason’s right – for once. He’s probably just picking out gifts still; you know Demon gets… perfectionistic.”

Steph joined in on the same vein, and even Cass looked unconcerned, if curious, but Jason was starting to wonder if maybe Dick wasn’t right to be worried. Or, not worried for the reasons Dick was worried – Damian jumped across rooftops and kicked 250-pound men in the face on a nightly basis; there was no reason to worry about his safety in a _shopping mall_ – but for other, much more rational reasons.

He’d just told Dick that everything was fine, but that was before he’d caught sight of two kids pulling their – obviously – harried mother in the direction of the escalator, both of their mouths forming the word “Santa” over and over again.

They were in the mall.

It was the holiday season.

There were decorations everywhere.

And, up the escalator, some poor sap was being forced to dress in a beard and red suit and ask children what they wanted for Christmas.

Jason pulled his thoughts together and broke out into a wide, likely less than sane, grin.

( _This is the best day of my life!)_

“Uh…” Dick’s concerned voice brought him back to reality. “Little Wing? You okay?”

“‘Okay’? Dick, I’m perfect. Beyond perfect. There’s no need to be worried – well, you might want to worry, but I’m not going to. Because this is a _gift_.”

“I should have booked you a therapy appointment for Christmas,” Tim said, staring at him dubiously.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Do you know what today is?”

“The 18th,” Cass offered.

“International Migrants’ Day,” Steph said, grinning.

“Does migrating back to the land of the living actually count?” Tim muttered idly.

“Jerk,” Jason responded.

“How do you know that?” Dick asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“My calendar is really informative.”

“Okay. Will you all shut up?”

“Only because you asked, Jason,” Tim drawled.

“You’re going to apologize for giving me so much attitude when I tell you that Santa is on the 2nd floor fueling the capitalist spirit and making children’s dreams come true,” Jason said with a smirk, pointing the escalator.

It didn’t matter that the space around them was bustling with activity – you could have heard a pin drop.

Tim’s expression was solemn. “I love you and I will never doubt you again.”

Jason completely believed him.

“Is this a drill?” Steph asked, eyes sparkling, voice lowered to a whisper.

“No. No it isn’t.”

“Dick is hyperventilating.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Cass.”

“Dick’s fault.”

“Agreed.” Jason walked over to his older brother, who looked less like he was hyperventilating and more like he’d forgotten how to breath entirely. He swung an arm around his shoulder and started walking, the rest of them following behind him – though Steph looked like she was dying to run ahead. “Why don’t we go see if Babybat’s broken the no kill rule.”

Dick let out a strangled sound; it was painful to witness. “You’re all going to hell.”

“No arguments here.”

“Sounds like a nice break,” Tim added.

“Is that- do you hear screaming?” Steph asked urgently.

They all paused.

“AHHHHHHHH!!! GET HIM OFF ME!!!!!!!!! GET HIM OFF!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

All five of them broke into a run, pushing their way past everyone on the escalator, but coming up short once they finally reached the second floor.

And how else could they react to the sight of their youngest brother choking “Santa Claus” by his fake beard?

Jason was the first to regain movement, startling into action and pulling his phone out. This needed to be recorded. Priorities.

( _And Damian continues to earn his place as my favorite sibling. Maybe even favorite family member at this point. Sorry, Alfred.)_

He pushed through the panicking crowd to get closer to the scene, grinning once he reached a good vantage point.

“Now, Imposter,” Damian spat, one hand pulling at the fake beard and another fisting into the collar of the man’s coat. “Why don’t you tell me where the _real_ Santa Claus is? Huh? ANSWER ME!”

Jason stifled his laughter in an attempt to keep the camera steady.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about Please, just-“

“STOP LYING! If he trusts you enough to send you to confront me in a fake suit, you’re obviously close enough to know the truth! And don’t think I’ll fall for any lies!”

“I swear I don’t-“

“SHUT UP! The next words out of your mouth had better be the truth or I’LL BEAT IT OUT OF YOU!”

There was a moment of unintelligible mumbling, during which, Jason caught sight of Cass and Steph trying not to laugh while talking down the security guards.

“SANTA CLAUS ISN’T REAL, ALL RIGHT!!!!!”

Silence fell abruptly.

( _Is this karma for persistently helping save the world? I deserve this. This is my reward.)_

The overwhelming cries from every child in the area were startling, but not unexpected.

Tim sidled up to him. “You’re going to send this to me, right? Everyone I know needs to see this.”

“Dude, I will send this to all the Titans myself if you want. I’ll even send this to Clark!”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Tim breathed.

“LIAR! YOU’RE JUST TRING TO SAVE YOUR OWN SKIN, YOU FILTHY CRETIN!!! TELL ME WHERE CLAUS IS!!! NOW!!”

“He’s completely feral!” Tim sounded ecstatic.

Jason couldn’t blame him.

Damian was just about to start punching, and Jason was beginning to wonder if maybe they should do something – the guy _was_ innocent, after all. But Dick beat them to it.

Coming out of his apparent stasis, Dick rushed forward and pulled Damian off of the man before the first hit could land.

“Grayson, let me go! I know Claus has you under his control, but you have to trust me! This is for the good of mankind!”

Tim leaned into him, unable to stand on his own anymore. “This is the best day of my life.”

_“I know, Tim. I know.”_

* * *

 

“You guys are so lucky you’re Waynes,” Steph said, straining her seatbelt to lean forward.

Dick had no response. Primarily because it was true. The only reason no one had pressed charges was because they were Bruce Wayne’s kids. If they hadn’t been…

Honestly, Dick didn’t want to think about what would have happened without Bruce’s name behind them. He’d never been so grateful for preferential treatment.

( _How is this my life?)_

Dick sighed as they came to a red light. Time to have another talk with Damian. Another talk that would, more than likely, be completely pointless – and would do absolutely nothing to dissuade him from his opinion that Santa Claus was evil and had them all under mind control.

He had a headache. What he wouldn’t give for Jason and the others to actually _care_ about the fact that Damian was young and impressionable and _Damian_.

Dick sighed again.

“Damian…”

Dick looked at Damian in the rearview mirror, frowning slightly at the set of his jaw and the scowl on his face and the tension in his shoulders.

There was no way – nothing he could say – to make this better. Nothing. He wished…

He wished that the others were taking this seriously. Because Steph was grinning, and Jason and Tim had their heads bent together over Jason’s phone – probably sending the video Jason had shot to every single individual in the caped community. Cass, at least, looked like she wasn’t about to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Not that that was good enough. He wanted guilt and actual emotional pain. Because that’s what he was feeling – and he hadn’t even been behind this.

( _I just wanted to have a nice Christmas.)_

“Damian,” he started again.

And stopped again.

Because what could he say?

If he lectured Damian on beating up an innocent man, it wouldn’t stick. Because Damian _wouldn’t_ beat up an innocent man. And, in his mind, he hadn’t. As far as Damian was concerned, he’d attacked a criminal in an effort to gain information on a much worse criminal. So, all Damian would think was that Dick was under Santa’s mind control.

And there was no way to convince Damian that Santa wasn’t a criminal. He got his stubbornness from Bruce, of course. A horrible trait to pass down.

So, what could he say?

Dick sighed. Again. “Damian. Santa is not an evil criminal mastermind,” he said sadly, saying it just to get it out of the way.

“No, Grayson. We’re not discussing this. I won’t.”

Dick could feel his shoulders slumping and his headache growing.

“You should stop trying, Dick. Don’t you know the definition of insanity?”

“Thank you, Tim, for your valuable contribution to this conversation. Anything else you’d like to add? Maybe you want to say that the Easter Bunny is an evil alien trying to conquer the world and also Santa’s rival?”

“The Easter Bunny? Who is that?” Damian spat, leaning forward with a calculating glare.

Jason, Tim, and Steph failed spectacularly at covering up their laughter. Cass shot him a look he couldn’t take the time to decipher.

“No! Damian, the Easter Bunny…”

He couldn’t say it. He felt like he was destroying Damian’s childhood! Or… redestroying.

“Urban legend,” Cass finished.

Dick sighed in relief – sighing, sighing, sighing. He was a smiler, not a sigher! Bruce was a sigher.

( _Ugh. I’m turning into my dad. Look what you did, Steph.)_

Damian eyed the two of them suspiciously, but sat back in his seat in grudging but genuine acceptance. He hoped.

“You didn’t buy any presents,” Dick pointed out, for lack of anything else to say.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Am I the only one who thought that sounded ominous?” Steph asked.

“Please,” Dick cut in, before Tim or Jason could speak up. “Just… let’s not talk.”

“Did Dick just ask us not to talk?” Jason questioned, eyebrow cocked derisively. “Dick?”

“First time for everything,” Tim said with a shrug.

Dick whimpered. Cass patted his shoulder comfortingly.

He didn’t feel any less like crying.

 


	4. Merry Christmas, Santa! (AKA Who's the Best Now, Claus?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence. 
> 
> Note: This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It’s marvelous.   
> Also, I’m aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra’s and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian’s lack of awareness is comedy gold.

Dick sighed heavily, staring blankly at the elegantly decorated tree. He had done a wonderful job – well, to be fair, Alfred had done a wonderful job. But Dick had helped. The perfect tree didn’t stop Dick from wishing that his siblings had decided to join them.

 

He’d asked. Of course, he’d asked.

 

(Hey, Little Wing-“

 

“I’ve got to go shoot someone or something.)

 

(“Timmy, you wanna’-“

 

“Working.”)

 

(“Dami-“

 

“No.”)

 

He hadn’t even been able to find Cass – though he had a feeling that had more to do with Steph than Cass’s personal willingness to help him decorate the tree.

 

Bruce had also been suspiciously missing. Or predictably.

 

Dick sighed.

 

( _Again, with the sighing! I really need to stop.)_  
  


He shook his head and turned on his heel, walking away from the tree. He was done sulking. Really. He meant it. Today was Christmas Eve and tomorrow was Christmas and _everyone_ was going to enjoy it.

 

Even though Christmas was already completely ruined because his irresponsible younger siblings had decided that taking advantage of their really naïve, really intense, really _Damian_ youngest brother was the best thing to do because they were insensitive and _irresponsible_ and didn’t care about the pure feelings of children on Christmas or about Dick’s own well-meaning Christmas wishes because they were _insensitive_ and _irresponsible_ and _mean_ \- !

 

Dick closed his eyes, crossing his arms and breathing out through his nose.

 

( _Calm, Dick. Calm.)_

He shook his head and continued on his way through the house, heading into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks when he finally got there.

 

( _No. Way.)_

Dick was speechless.

 

Dick had never been speechless in his life.

 

But this…

 

Just… wow. Wow.

 

“Grayson, your grin is starting to become creepy. Stop it.”

 

“Little D!” Dick exclaimed. “You’re helping Alfred make cookies!”

 

Damian was, as always, unimpressed. “I’m aware.”

 

Dick turned to Alfred, shocked, and awed, and so, so pleasantly surprised. “You’re making cookies! Together. You and Damian! You’re making Christmas cookies!”

 

“Indeed.” Alfred was also unimpressed.

 

Which, fair.

 

But, come on. Damian was helping Alfred make cookies. This was like… Dick’s dream come true. This was _Christmas._

 

No.

 

This was the best day of his life.

 

Dick whipped out his phone, snapping as many pictures as possible before Damian started glaring at the camera. (Quantity: 2).

 

Then he snapped a few more while Damian was doing that wordless snarl thing he normally reserved for criminals. Or Tim. Because, really. The only think more adorable than Damian blinking in shock while having pictures taken of him was Damian glaring while having pictures taken of him. While wearing an apron. And flour on his nose. Well, there was also Damian smiling. Or Damian willingly hugging anyone in the family, but beggars can’t be choosers. (Quantity: 11).

 

“These are going to be great for the scrapbook.”

 

Damian scowled. “I will steal your phone and delete those photos, Grayson.”

 

Dick just smiled. Not that he doubted Damian, but Dick was already planning to send these to Barbara and have her make copies, so…

 

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and clapped his hands. “Christmas cookies! That, if I’m not mistaken, is a family affair. How about I join you?”

 

Damian was glaring at him, which – mean. Also – cute. It wasn’t much of a deterrent.

 

Alfred on the other hand…

 

The pursed lips. The vaguely dubious “Hm”. Not welcoming. At all. It was actually kind of hurtful, when he thought about it. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

“No?” Dick asked hesitantly.

 

“You do remember the last time you helped make Christmas cookies, Master Richard?”

 

Dick grimaced slightly.

 

He did remember, actually. Kind of. Almost. He wished he didn’t remember it at all; he’d clearly been repressing. And for good reason. Even now, he could only recall flashes of vomit, watery splatter with strange gunk mixed in, and fire. Not necessarily in that order.

 

“But that was a long time ago,” he replied weakly.

 

“2 years ago, Master Richard. 2 years. I can still see the stains.”

 

Dick followed Alfred’s gaze to the ceiling. Yeah, okay. There was a single, half-inch diameter, discolored splotch on the ceiling, right above the island. Dick got the distinct feeling that Alfred had left it there in order to remind him of this moment the next time Dick stepped foot in the kitchen to make anything more than a sandwich or a bowl of cereal.

 

It was painfully effective.

 

Dick looked away from the stain only to notice Damian’s intrigued gaze. Nope. Not going to relive _that_ any further.

 

“Actually, you know what? I think I have some gift wrapping to do. Gotta’ get everything under the tree, you know. So…”

 

Alfred nodded approvingly, and Damian shrugged, but with a look in his eye that said he definitely wasn’t going to let this go permanently.

 

( _Awesome.)_

Dick turned, preparing to not-retreat from the kitchen/site-of-nightmare-inducing-flashbacks, when he stopped.

 

He looked over his shoulder, pasting on a sheepish smile, glad that Damian had already gone back to stirring the contents of his bowl.

 

Pros of having a family full of highly trained super-detectives: someone always knew when something was wrong with you.

 

Cons of having a family full of highly trained super-detectives: someone always knew when something was wrong with you.

 

“Hey, Alfred, I was thinking about putting up some extra garland on the stair rail. Will you come look at it and tell me how much I should use?”

 

Damian snorted, but it was his derisive “you’re being ridiculous; stop bringing shame on Father” snort, not his derisive “you’re an idiot if you think you’re getting away with fooling me; try harder and stop bringing shame on Father” snort.

 

Dick was in the clear.

 

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Richard.”

 

Dick walked out into the next room and turned around, expression already horrified. “Alfred,” he hissed quietly, “did you say anything about the cookies being for Santa?”

 

Alfred’s expression was unreadable. “No. Though I think Master Damian will be smart enough to extrapolate that fact when I set the cookies out on the table next to the tree with a note.”

 

The “as you asked me to at the beginning of the month” was unspoken, but heard. Loudly.

 

So was the “why?”.

 

Dick stared at Alfred. Did Alfred really not know? Was that possible? For Alfred not to know something? Or was this a test? A chance at redemption? Was Dick supposed to come clean and reveal everything?

 

That was probably the responsible thing to do. He _should_ do it. Putting cookies out for Santa was just asking for another outburst from Damian. A loud one. In the house. Where Bruce could see.

 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Alfred. He just couldn’t!

 

And who would expect him to? Really? It’s not like it was even his fault.

 

And if that sounded a little irresponsible, Dick knew where he’d gotten that from. Jason, and Cass, and Steph, and Tim, all rubbing off on him.

 

He could just ask Alfred not to set cookies out…

 

But then there would be questions. _Alfred_ would ask questions.

 

Dick couldn’t lie to Alfred!

 

Not when he was asking direct questions!

 

Alfred’s expression was as patiently bland as ever when Dick finally made his decision. He forced a smile onto his face. It hurt.

 

“I want it to be a surprise!”

 

Alfred’s raised eyebrow was slightly – okay, _really_ – judgmental, but it hadn’t crossed into chastising territory, so Dick felt as good about his response as was possible at the moment.

 

So, not very good, but he dealt with relatively greater trauma on a semi-regular basis, so he was pretty sure he could pull through.

 

“Of course, Master Richard.” Dry as the desert. More painful.

 

Dick nodded jerkily and then walked away.

 

This was probably going to be a disaster.

* * *

 

Bruce grumbled to himself as he walked down the stairs, sack of presents slung over his shoulder, fake beard scratching at his face.

 

He didn’t know why he had let Dick convince him.

 

(“Bruce, you have to!”

 

“Dick…”

 

“It’s Christmas. And Dami! Dami deserves this! You know he does! You have to give him some piece of a normal childhood, Bruce, and you know he’s never had that! Please, Bruce? For Damian?”)

 

Ah, yes. Because his oldest son had somehow become an expert at guilting him into crazy stunts for the sake of his youngest son.

 

Still...

 

Dressing up like Santa so that the Manor security system could catch pictures of him for Dick to show to Damian?

 

Was there even a point when the cameras were high-resolution and Damian was smart enough to realize it was him?

 

Bruce was honestly starting to suspect that this was all some sort of ploy to get blackmail pictures of him.

 

He sighed heavily and scratched at the beard as he made his way into living room.

 

( _At least Alfred made cookies.)_

 

Bruce dropped the bag of presents and enjoyed the cookies Alfred had left him – only three. Bruce wondered if Alfred was trying to tell him something about his diet.

 

He grabbed the sack and took a step towards the tree.

 

And then he stopped.

 

Something… something didn’t feel right.

 

( _A sedative? How?)_

 

Bruce didn’t have time to work it out. He stumbled forwards, dropping the sack and struggling to maintain his balance. Not that it did him any good when he ended up caught in one of the simplest traps known to man, leaving him suspended upside down from the ceiling.

 

How hadn’t he noticed?

 

( _…because I’m… at home… sedatives… never doing… anything for Dick… ever…)_

* * *

 

Damian snarled, viciously gleeful.

 

Finally.

 

_(Finally!)_

 

Damian could hardly believe it had worked. He hadn’t had much hope when he’d initially set the trap; Claus was an immortal supervillain. He had millennia of experience on Damian.

 

And magic.

 

But he’d set the trap anyway, hoping that Claus would be complacent enough, arrogant enough, not to take the necessary precautions when entering the Manor.

 

And it had paid off.

 

Not that it had been purely due to luck. Damian had planned meticulously.

 

Well…

 

It had been more of a spur of the moment thing.

 

He had walked into the kitchen and seen Pennyworth making _Christmas cookies._ The man hadn’t said it, but Damian had known that the cookies were for Claus. In his research, he had come across the ritual: leaving cookies out for Santa Claus to eat.

 

The very thought had brought a sneer to Damian’s face.

 

The greedy, egomaniacal narcissist wasn’t satisfied with having nearly everyone on the planet under his thrall. He required them to give him offerings to support his petty god-complex.

 

Claus wasn’t subtle; Damian couldn’t believe that no one had worked out his criminal nature before now. Or, they might have, but none of them had been successful.

 

Until now.

 

When faced with the fact that even _Pennyworth_ worshiped Claus, Damian had almost given up. But then he had realized what a brilliant opportunity it was. All he had to do was offer to assist Pennyworth – an attempt to join in on the “Christmas spirit” as Grayson had insisted on calling it – and then lace the mixture with enough high-grade sedatives to take out one of the Flashes.

 

Pennyworth had been surprised, but he had been perfectly willing to let Damian assist him. That had given Damian more hope than he had had in his entire campaign; Claus couldn’t tell what he was planning, which meant Damian had a chance.

 

Grayson had almost ruined things with his interference – Damian wouldn’t have been able to slip the sedatives into the mix if Grayson had been watching – but Pennyworth had prevented Grayson from joining them.

 

 _And_ Grayson had given him the perfect opening to add the drugs into the cookie batter when he had taken Pennyworth out of the room to look at _garland._

 

It had been the perfect confluence of events.

 

And it had all worked out.

 

He had set a trap, drugged Claus’ offering, and set an alarm to go off when he had finally caught Claus.

 

_And he had!_

 

Now, he had the world’s most dangerous criminal in his custody, and he could free his family from the man’s clutches and prove to them that he had been right all along.

 

Damian slammed his door open and turned on the hall lights.

 

“Wake up! Get out of bed immediately! I’ve done it; I’ve caught Santa Claus! And you’ll all see for yourselves who Claus really is!”

 

Damian ran through the Manor, banging on everyone’s doors. He started heading downstairs, but turned back. He pushed open Drake’s door and turned to Titus and Pennyworth, who had followed him out of his room.

 

“Get Drake,” he commanded.

 

They obeyed immediately.

 

“Wh-gah! Damian!”

 

Damian smirked; he was very proud of his pets.

 

He prepared to continue downstairs, but stopped when Todd called out to him.

 

“Seriously, Babybat, what’s the big deal?” Todd asked, running a hand through his hair as he ambled down the hallway. “Is someone dead?”

 

“Not yet,” Damian said coolly.

“10 points for the unnecessary but well-delivered ominous line. -100 points for attacking me with Titus. And Alfred. And waking everyone up in the middle of the night on one of our only days off,” Drake said dryly, glaring.

 

“You look more like a zombie than Todd,” Damian sneered.

 

“The only reason I’m not offended is because it’s true. Seriously, is this your first time sleeping in a week?”

 

Drake shot Todd a look. “Do you think I keep track?”

 

“Not good, Timmy. You need more sleep,” Cain said, slipping around the corner. She cocked her head and looked at Damian. “What happened? Something good.”

 

“Something good happened?” Grayson said, shuffling down the hall towards them, rubbing his eyes. “What was it?”

 

“Dami knows,” Cain said.

 

“I got attacked,” Drake offered.

 

“No one cares,” Damian responded.

 

“That’s actually true,” Todd agreed. “You get attacked a lot; it’s really not news.”

 

“I sincerely hope you don’t plan on spending the rest of the night in the hallway.”

 

Everyone turned to look at Pennyworth, who had just arrived on the scene. He looked neat and impeccable, even in pajamas; it was mildly disturbing.

 

Damian just shook his head. “No. We’re going downstairs now; I’m sure Father can catch up. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

 

Pennyworth raised an eyebrow. “We open presents in the morning, Master Damian.”

 

Damian grinned. “Who needs presents when I’ve caught Santa Claus?”

 

The silence was deafening, but Damian didn’t wait for them to react. He turned on his heel and rushed downstairs to the living room. He smirked at the pounding footsteps following him.

 

( _Good_.)

 

“Wait! Damian, what are you talking about?” Grayson called, voice surprisingly high.

 

“Tim, I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to go get your camera because it’s probably amazing.”

 

“On it.”

 

Damian could feel his grin growing.

 

It disappeared as soon as he entered the living room and flipped on the lights.

 

“ _NO!_ ” Damian shouted, staring in horror at the man hanging unconscious and upside down in his trap.

 

Damian barely registered the rest of his family gathering in the room.

 

He heard Grayson’s embarrassingly high-pitched whimper.

 

He heard Pennyworth’s “Oh, my.”

 

Cain’s “Bruce.”

 

Todd’s desperate “Timmy, Timmy, Timmy!”

 

Drake’s annoyingly reverent “I know, Jay. I know.”

 

But it didn’t register. Not really.

 

Because all he could see was his father. Hanging in his trap. Dressed up as Santa Claus.

 

( _How is this possible?)_

 

“No, no, no! I don’t understand! How did this happen?”

 

“Honestly, it looks like B wasn’t paying attention. And, really, there’s no excuse for that,” Todd said mockingly.

 

Damian whirled around fiercely. “I’m being serious, Todd! It was perfect! I drugged the cookies-“

 

“What?” Grayson cried.

 

“Honestly, Master Damian.”

 

“He drugged the cookies, Jason!”

 

“I set my trap and the alarm! I was supposed to have Claus? How did he know? How did he know what I was planning?”

 

“Master Richard, I think this requires an explanation, don’t you?”

 

“It wasn’t my fault, Alfred! I swear!”

 

“Steph’s fault.”

 

“Way to throw your best friend under the bus, Cass. I want to be that savage one day.”

 

“It’s impossible to be as savage as Cass, Jason. It’s impossible.”

 

“Will the two of you shut up! Don’t you see what’s happened here?” Damian demanded.

 

Drake raised an eyebrow. “I see it. And I’m recording it.”

 

Damian bared his teeth. “No, you don’t see it; you’re all still under his control! And so was Father! And Claus forced him into this ridiculous suit and knowingly made him eat the drugged cookies – all to get back at me! He’s mocking me – letting me know I’ll never be good enough to stop him.”

 

Damian looked at the floor and clenched his fists. “He’s won,” he admitted.

 

( _I’ve failed. They’ll be under Claus’ control forever. There’s no way to stop him.)_

 

“All right, I think that’s enough,” Pennyworth said clearly. “Camera off, Master Timothy. And I would like someone to explain exactly what has happened here.”

 

Damian looked up, resignation morphing into anger. “Claus won’t even let you admit to it? He’s that intent on torturing me?”

 

Grayson’s face fell into a painfully pitiful expression. “I didn’t think this would happen, Alfred. I just wanted Christmas!”

 

Anger morphed into befuddlement. Though anger was still present. “What are you talking about, Grayson?”

 

Pennyworth cocked an eyebrow.

 

Grayson cringed. Todd ineffectively his behind Grayson. Cain, much more effectively, hid behind Todd. Drake raised his hands, grimacing in his typical clueless fashion.

 

Damian furrowed his brow and scowled, anger slowly fading.

 

( _What is going on here? Shouldn’t Claus be appearing to gloat? Or using his mind control to make one of them do it for him?)_

 

Grayson tried to look away from Pennyworth, but his eyes landed on their father. He cringed further and turned back to Pennyworth.

 

“It’s all their fault,” he said helplessly, gesturing behind him and ignoring the resulting protests. “I just wanted Christmas, Alfred! There’s nothing wrong with wanting Christmas!”

 

Pennyworth’s brow remained raised.

 

And Damian…remained confused.


	5. All's Well That Ends Well (Even if Christmas was Basically Ruined)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence. 
> 
> Note: This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It’s marvelous.   
> Also, I’m aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra’s and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian’s lack of awareness is comedy gold. 
> 
> Note: It took me 9 months, but I finally finished. In about 3 weeks of intensive writing. I’m kind of ashamed it took me this long.

Dick twiddled his fingers, tapping his foot, and doing his utmost not to look at anyone else in the room.

They were all waiting for Bruce and Alfred to come back up from the Cave. They weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but it wasn’t likely to be good.

After all, Bruce had woken up with a killer headache and his signature dark and brooding glare, and Alfred…

Dick didn’t want to think about Alfred.

“So.”

All eyes shifted to Tim simultaneously.

“This could end badly, but, as far as I can tell, we have 2 options.”

Jason turned to Tim, intrigued. “What are those options exactly?”

“1: we blame it all on Dick.”

“Hey!” Dick cried, sitting up straight. “How-no! You can’t blame me. This is not my fault! Of everyone whose fault it could be, my name doesn’t come up!”

Tim shrugged. “I said we had 2 options, didn’t I?”

“What’s number 2?” Cass asked, cocking her head.

“We go for your plan: blame Steph. I think we’ve got the best shot with that one, really. There’s more evidence that it’s her fault than anyone else’s and she’s not here, so she can’t defend herself.”

“I like it; let’s do it,” Jason said.

Cass nodded.

Dick stared at them blankly. Honestly, he had given up on them a while ago. But it was… not at all surprising to see how far they would go.

They learned it from Bruce.

“Quiet, you fools! Can’t any of you see what’s happening here?” Damian hissed.

“I don’t think _you_ see what’s happening here,” Tim drawled.

“I’m the only one who sees-!”

Dick set a hand on Damian’s shoulder and shook his head. “Just… not now, Damian.”

“Yeah, Damian,” Jason quipped, “You guys’ quality of life is at stake.”

“What do you mean ‘you guys’’?” Tim questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, see, I just realized that I can leave whenever I want and go to any of my few dozen safe houses across the world, so Bruce can’t ground me. I’m pretty much in the clear.”

Tim snorted. “We all have safe houses, Jason. Even Damian.”

“Grounded?” Damian scowled. “Why would any of us be grounded?”

Dick sighed heavily. He wanted to join in on the commiserating looks Jason and Tim were sending each other, but that would make it seem like he had been in on this with them.

“You drugged the cookies,” Tim pointed out. “And caught Bruce in a trap.”

Damian stood up sharply. “To catch the most dangerous man in the world – not that any of you understand that! He won’t let you!”

Dick let his face drop into his hands. “Please, Damian. Sit down.”

“Can we get back to what really matters here?” Jason demanded.

“The malicious indoctrination of your youngest brother doesn’t matter, Jason?”

And there Dick went. Raising his voice. Whenever he thought he didn’t have it in him…

“Okay, you’re making it sound worse than it is. But I still say we blame Steph,” Tim stated. “Show of hands?”

Dick was giving up on life, and Damian had his arms crossed, but the other three raised their hands unhesitatingly.

“I’m all for blaming Steph,” Jason allowed, “but my point stands: what punishment are we trying to escape here?”

“No presents and no food from Alfred,” Cass said plainly.

“Oh crap,” Jason said, blinking. He raised his hand higher in the air. “Okay. Let’s definitely blame Steph. It was all her fault. We had no part in this; we’re innocent bystanders.”

“Obviously,” Tim agreed, rolling his eyes. “Keep up, Jay.”

“Can I say something here?” Dick interjected.

“Is it going to be depressingly moralistic and admonishing when we’re in the middle of a serious life-crisis?” Jason asked.

Dick pursed his lips.

Jason shook his head. “Exactly. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“Really? You’re going to say that? To me? You?”

“Is that judgement I’m hearing, _Richard?_ I don’t need that from you; this is an emotionally trying time for me and I need your love and support!”

“‘Love and support’? What about Damian? He needed _your_ love and support! Look how that turned out!”

“What are you going on about?” Damian interrupted.

“Nothing relevant,” Tim answered. “We should be focusing on getting our story straight.”

“He’ll be able to tell,” Cass pointed out.

“Or, maybe, we should stop lying and tell the truth!” Dick suggested. “I know it’s a novel concept for us, but maybe, if we just try, we’ll realize that it makes everything better.”

Jason and Tim caught each other’s eyes before, predictably, breaking into peals of laughter. Cass just smiled at him and patted his knee patronizingly.

( _Thanks, Cassie.)_

“Tt. I don’t know what any of you are on about, but even I know that’s a stupid idea, Grayson,” Damian added, arms still crossed and shoulders still slumped, but with an added quirk to his lips.

( _Making fun of me pulls them together. How nice.)_

Tim smirked. “As much fun as that was, let’s get serious guys. Dick told Alfred about Damian thinking Santa is evil-“

“He is!”

“While Bruce was unconscious. Alfred definitely told Bruce about it. Because this is Damian and he was doing it in all earnestness to protect the world, he’ll probably get off with an aimless lecture because, really, there’s no logical way to approach correcting him for this.”

“There’s nothing to correct, Drake!”

Tim continued to ignore Damian, settling fully into Red-Robin-here-for-damage-control-because-you’re-all-helpless-without-me mode. “With Damian out of the way, he’ll focus on trying to figure out if anyone is guilty; did anyone set this into motion? Was this planned? We can’t get away with saying we were innocent – we all knew about it and didn’t say anything. Besides, Dick looks too guilty.”

“Someone should be,” Dick grumbled.

Pointlessly because there was no stopping Tim once he was on a roll.

“So, we say we knew about it, and we didn’t say anything, but Steph was the one who encouraged Damian and didn’t set him straight. It’s all true, anyway, so we aren’t even lying. It’s just… a matter of presentation.”

Cass nodded in agreement.

Damian stared on, indignant and confused, which seemed like it was going to be his permanent state of being for the foreseeable future.

Jason whistled. “Wow, Timmers. If you weren’t a weird combination of vigilante-businessman, you would totally be a lawyer.”

“You mean that as an insult, but we all know who’d be in charge of keeping you out of jail.”

Jason tilted his head, conceding the point.

And Dick had to admit, as shameful as this all was – and it was so, so, so shameful – he was really impressed with Tim’s thoroughness and dedication.

If only he would apply it to other things. Like being a good role model for his impressionable younger brother.

And then there were footsteps. Which meant Bruce and Alfred were coming.

( _Seriously, what’s with the perfect timing here?)_

Everyone sat up straighter, and Dick couldn’t help rolling his eyes when Jason noticed and forced himself to slump into the couch. Like everyone didn’t know he was just as nervous as they were.

Tim shot Jason a look of pure judgment that he probably learned from Alfred.

Dick turned away from the scene when Bruce and Alfred finally walked in the room. Bruce had changed out of the Santa suit.

Dick felt immensely relieved, and he hadn’t even known he’d been worried about that.

“Father,” Damian started forcefully, standing up.

“Sit down, Damian,” Bruce said.

There was a miniscule wrinkle in between his eyebrows, which meant he had a “my children are insane” headache. That was so much better than a headache that was just a headache. Those always meant he was angry or disappointed.

No one needed that right now.

It was _Christmas._

“How long has this been going on?”

“2 weeks,” Tim said plainly.

Bruce’s eyes shifted to Tim. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I just wanted Christmas!” Dick exclaimed.

Bruce ignored him, which kind of hurt.

Tim shrugged. “We probably should have, but we didn’t think it could get this bad.”

Damian was practically trembling – whether it was tension, rage, or confusion, Dick wasn’t sure. Probably all three, plus the struggle of holding back whatever it was he wanted to say.

“There was a fight. In the mall. Damian nearly beat up a civilian.”

For the first time, Tim looked at a loss.

“He was an agent of Santa Claus-!”

“We’ll deal with that in a moment, Master Damian,” Alfred said calmly.

Cass and Jason avoided making eye contact with Tim, and, really, he should have known better.

Tim blinked. “How did you get a hold of that? I suppressed all of the footage.”

There was a moment of silence. Bruce’s face was blank, but Dick assumed that, underneath, he was feeling a mixture of bemusement and pride at how… _Tim_ … Tim was being.

“You sent a copy to Superboy.” There was slight disapproval in his voice, probably less because Tim was sending videos of Damian attacking innocents to people, and more because Tim had sent copies of the video to people outside of the family when he should have been covering his tracks.

( _Come on, B. Priorities.)_

Tim gaped. “He showed Clark? Clark wasn’t actually supposed to see that. That traitor.”

Tim actually sounded really betrayed. It was sort of sad.

Jason scoffed. “Dump him.”

Damian frowned. “Really, Drake? You and the clone? Even you could do better.”

“Aww,” Dick cooed. “That’s so sweet; he thinks you could do better!”

“Does that mean you don’t think he could do better?” Cass asked, smiling slightly.

“Of course, he could!”

“I thought you liked Superboy,” Jason pointed out.

“It’s not about liking Superboy-“

“Do I get any say in this?” Tim interrupted.

“Last time you got any say in your love life, you started dating a girl who smashed your face in with a brick. So, no. You don’t,” Jason said.

“So, you don’t like Steph now?” Tim asked.

“I love Steph; honestly, she’s better than you-“

“Thanks, Jason.”

“Do you want me to lie now?”

“Can we get back on topic?”

Dick looked away from the trainwreck that was Jason and Tim’s conversation, with a sheepish smile.

( _Oops.)_

Bruce’s “my children are insane” headache wrinkle had deepened into a “my children are insane and sometimes I wish I’d left them all on a street corner” headache wrinkle.

“Right,” Dick said. “Topic. Topic. Topic…”

In all fairness to himself, that conversation had really spiraled.

Bruce sighed. “I figured, if any of you were behind this, you would share with your friends.” More disapproval; he should really lighten up on that if he doesn’t want Tim to actually become impossible to catch. “So, I called Clark, and he talked to Superboy.”

Jason’s face was a mask of mock outrage. “You couldn’t just talk to us first?”

Bruce shot Jason a dry look. “Superboy is less likely to lie.”

“That’s really his mentor’s fault, if you think about it.”

Bruce continued sighing his life away. “You didn’t think it would get this bad, but you watched your brother tackle a man in the mall?”

Tim took over the conversation at the redirection. “We didn’t actually get there until _after_ Damian had already tackled the guy.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Who’s behind this?”

“Steph.”

Dick almost admired Tim’s unhesitating admittance.

Cass and Jason nodded along; Damian looked like he wanted to hit someone.

Bruce nodded slowly “That… actually makes sense.”

There was a pause. Dick wondered what was going to happen next. Then he decided that he really didn’t care about Tim and the others taking responsibility anymore; they’d already blamed Steph and Bruce believed them, so there was no point in focusing on that.

What really mattered was fixing this. And there had to be a way to fix it. Bruce would come up with something.

“Damian!” Dick shouted, gesturing to his youngest brother, who looked as frustrated as Dick had ever seen him.

It was kind of hurting his heart the more Dick looked at Damian, so he avoided looking at him.

Bruce nodded. “Yes. This needs to be dealt with. Damian, come with me.”

Damian scowled, but stood up. “Where are we going?”

“To the Cave. There’s something I need to show you.”

Dick blinked and watched them go. He wondered if he should follow. Mostly, he wondered what Bruce could possibly show Damian that would fix this.

“Is that it?” Jason asked.

Which was a good point.

“I believe so, Master Jason. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to admit to?” Alfred replied, arching an eyebrow.

Jason shook his head rapidly. “No, no definitely not. Just… that’s it? Really?”

“Shut up, Jason,” Tim hissed.

Alfred hummed slightly. “Yes, Master Jason, that is _it_ , as you put it. After all, it is Chirstmas.”

That was really painful to hear in this context.

“Okay, but really-“

“Jason, if you don’t shut up, I will ruin your life.”

Cass decided to assist Tim – or save Jason’s life – there was no telling – by covering Jason’s mouth with her hand. Jason didn’t seem particularly bothered; he was probably grateful. Tim had sounded pretty vicious.

“Now, there are 5 hours until breakfast, so if you we could all return to our beds?”

Not a suggestion. Dick guessed he _wasn’t_ going to go see what Bruce was showing Damian.

Great.

Now, he just felt anxious.

* * *

 

Damian looked up when his door opened. Grayson poked his head into the room, a hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey, Dami, mind if I come in?”

Damian pursed his lips, but nodded. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Grayson?”

He shrugged and dropped down onto the bed. “I wanted to check on you,” he paused. “See what Bruce told you.”

“He told me the truth,” Damian said.

And he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Because, apparently, Santa Claus wasn’t real. And that was good, because it meant that there wasn’t a supervillain who had control over majority of the world’s population – including the heroes.

It also meant that he’d spent the past few weeks making a fool of himself while his siblings continually lied and made fun of him.

Though, honestly? Their behavior made so much more sense in hindsight.

Except for Grayson.

“He told me that Santa Claus isn’t real, Grayson. And I expect the sort of juvenile behavior the others exhibited, but I don’t understand why you-“ He cut himself off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I- No! Dami, look at me.”

Grayson sounded desperate, and it was embarrassing, so Damian looked at him.

“Show some respect for yourself.”

Grayson’s face was pinched and a little pathetic. “Damian, I wasn’t… I wasn’t playing a joke on you or anything.”

“But you lied to me. You told me Santa Claus was real.”

“I- yeah. But not to hurt you! It’s… people tell kids that Santa’s real because it’s like… I don’t know. It’s a Christmas thing and I just wanted you to have a nice Christmas and that’s just how it goes and then the others told me what they did and I thought I could make things better by convincing you Santa was real so you could Christmas the way kids normally do and it would be nice and magic – but not evil magic and-“

“Grayson,” Damian interrupted, slightly overwhelmed. Not by the amount of words – Grayson always talked a lot – but by how disturbingly heartbroken Grayson sounded. “I believe you.”

And he did. It was just like his oldest brother to want to do something that ridiculous to give him a “normal childhood experience”.

“Oh. Good,” he responded, sighing in relief. “Still, I’m sorry. I should have realized how insane this was going to get and I should have gone to Bruce sooner and then we could have avoided all of this.”

“Obviously,” Damian agreed. “The idea of a figure like ‘Santa Claus’ being benevolent is just stupid. There really wasn’t any other way for me to interpret his ‘existence’. Even if you had gotten to me before Brown.”

He scowled at the memory of her deception. Mostly, he was upset at himself for being so easily played. How had he fallen for that?

Grayson laughed. “Yeah, I’m getting that. So, how did Bruce convince you that Santa wasn’t real? I mean, wouldn’t you just think Santa was trying to trick you?”

“I did at first,” Damian acknowledged. “But he showed me irrefutable proof.”

“What was it?” Grayson asked, leaning forward.

“A video of Superman flying over the North Pole.”

Grayson stared at him blankly. “Are you saying… Bruce called Clark, had him interrogate Superboy, and then fly over the North Pole. In the middle of the night. On Christmas Eve.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Grayson threw his head back and burst into laughter. “Any lengths!”

( _What is wrong with him?)_

Grayson shook his head as he quieted down. And then, he turned to Damian with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Damian shot his a preemptive dubious look.

“Oh, come on! Don’t look at me like that; I’ve got a great idea!”

“Like your great idea of trying to get me to believe Santa Claus was a compassionate, _real_ entity?”

Grayson cringed. “Too soon, Dami.”

Damian smirked.

“And, no. It’s a whole lot better.”

“Well? What is it then?”

Grayson leaned forward, smile growing. “You wanna’ get revenge?”

Damain stared at Grayson. And then he grinned. “Absolutely.”

Grayson twisted around excitedly. Now sitting cross-legged on the bed and facing Damian, he clapped his hands together. “Excellent. We need to come up with a great idea to prank them.”

Damian tilted his head thoughtfully. It was important to consider this carefully. “Hmm… sedating all of them and-“

“No,” Grayson interrupted. “Absolutely not. Never. No sedatives. Ever again. Ever. Dying all of their uniforms pink?”

“Unoriginal,” Damian countered, rolling his eyes. “Having Titus attack-“

“No! Absolutely not,” Grayson exclaimed, patting the dog on the head soothingly when he shot up at the noise. “Sorry, Titus.”

“Tt.” Damian leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. “What, then, Grayson?”

He frowned slightly. “…Sending blackmail photos to all of their friends?”

“That’s less a prank and more straightforward revenge,” Damian pointed out.

“Oh. Right. Well-“

“It’s perfect. Let’s do it.”

Damian shared a smile with Grayson.

( _I might actually enjoy Christmas after all.)_

* * *

She’d stormed into the Manor on a mission, determined to confront… well, one of them. Because she’d gotten messages from Barbara and Harper. Messages that said they’d seen really embarrassing pictures of her.

_April Fools’ Day pictures._

And only one of the idiots here would have had access to those pictures.

And only one of the _sadists_ here would have sent out those pictures on _Christmas._

That really only ruled out Cass, but Steph hadn’t suspected her in the first place.

After all, she’d gotten pictures of Cass.

Steph hadn’t actually thought it was possible to get blackmail photos of Cass, but someone had proved her wrong.

She’d be impressed if she weren’t so horrified at the entire situation.

“All right,” she demanded, staring at all of them, sitting in the living room like they weren’t _evil_. “Which one of you did it?”

“Stephanie,” Bruce said.

She waved him off. “Bruce, this is serious business. One of your children – but not Cass – sent _April Fools’ Day pictures_ of me to Barbara and Harper!”

They all looked shocked – well, Bruce looked like he was regretting every life decision up to this point, but that was his typical expression.

So, there was no way to rule anyone out.

Not that she’d expected it to be that easy.

She stomped. “That’s not how blackmail pictures work! And one of you sent me pictures of Cass, which, impressive, but seriously?”

Cass blinked, cocked her head, looked around the room, and then nodded. “Oh. Sorry, Dami. Dick.”

Steph’s jaw dropped. “No. Dick?”

He shrugged, smiling unrepentantly. “Revenge is revenge, Steph. No hard feelings?”

“Oh, there should plenty of those, Grayson.”

Damian was smirking like he was a Bond villain; it was terrifying. More terrifying than usual because he had sent blackmail pictures out and had effectively ruined her life!

Okay, so her life wasn’t ruined, but she’d nearly had a heart-attack when she’d gotten those texts.

“Wait,” Jason said, sounding a bit panicked. “You sent pictures of Cass. If you sent pictures of Cass…”

It was kind of hilarious to watch Jason dig around in his pockets looking for his phone like he would die if he didn’t find it.

He pulled it out of the 5th pocket he looked in, which is what he got for wearing a leather jacket indoors during Christmas – like, come on, Jason – and unlocked it.

“No. No.”

“What?” Tim asked, detachedly interested.

Steph raised her eyebrow at his reaction. He was really calm; it was kind of annoying. Cass could be calm and it was fine. Tim panicked when he ran out of instant espresso powder. This was more serious than instant espresso powder.

( _Well, maybe not to Tim.)_

“You sent the pictures from Damian’s birthday? To Roy?”

Steph had never heard his voice that high before.

Dick shrugged.

Damian grinned like he had just taken over the world.

She wondered if she should apologize. Dick has sent her a guilt trip text message last night to tell her that Alfred and Bruce had found out and that she was a horrible person. But Tim had also sent her a video of Bruce hanging upside down from the ceiling, so she hadn’t really been sorry then.

She kind of was now, though.

Not that an apology would actually solve anything.

_April Fools’ Day pictures had been released._

“How could you? And Roy? Really?” Jason said, looking genuinely disturbed.

Bruce sighed somewhere in the background, probably wondering how his life had come to this.

It was his own fault for perpetuating this cycle of revenge.

( _Ooh. I should say that put loud someday.)_

Jason whirled around to Tim after a lackluster response from his tormentors. “Why are you so freaking calm?”

Tim snorted. “They probably sent pictures to the team.” He looked at them questioningly, shrugging when they nodded. “So, it doesn’t matter. If any of them try to make fun of me, I’ll just remind them that I have worse pictures. Problem solved.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you run your team in a vaguely totalitarian manner?” Jason asked, disgruntled, but obviously impressed.

Tim shrugged again.

Dick hummed.

Tim froze.

“So… you’ve got pictures _worse_ than St. Patrick’s Day last year?”

Steph had never seen anyone pale that fast. Or anyone grin as mean-spiritedly as Damian.

But, to be fair, the St. Patrick’s Day pictures were _bad._ Worse than the April Fools’ pictures.

Way worse.

Which was saying a lot.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, we did, Drake.”

“That’s… that’s just cruel, Babybat,” Jason said, once again sounding impressed.

Steph exchanged a look with Cass. They were obviously both on the same page about the boys’ level of crazy.

Tim stood up. “I doubt any of them are up yet; I can still hack into their phones and computers through the backdoors I installed and delete the photographs before they see them.”

Jason stood up, too. “There are things I could say, but I’m not going to. You have one of those installed in Roy’s stuff?”

“Obviously.”

Bruce, unsurprisingly, looked a little proud.

“Delete those pictures, too. It doesn’t matter if he’s seen them if he can’t produce proof.”

Damian looked a little upset, but Dick just slung an arm around him and smiled. “Have fun with that!”

The look Tim shot him was Damian-levels of feral.

( _Someone takes their ability to keep all of their friends in check a little too seriously.)_

“You’re all horrible people and I hate you,” Steph said.

“Tt. Let it go and embrace the Christmas spirit, Brown,” Damian drawled, all smirks and unreasonable sass.

( _Man, that was a good line.)_

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Dick cried, grinning way too much for someone that cruel.

“I will end you,” Tim promised, beginning his trek to the Cave; Jason followed right behind him.

“You just need more coffee!” Dick called out.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Bruce asked, pained.

“Merry Christmas, B,” Dick said, grinning.

“Yes,” Damian stated smugly. “Merry Christmas, Father.”

“Hot chocolate?” Alfred questioned placidly, coming into the room just in time to miss the drama.

“Me!” Cass said smiling.

“OH! Cocoa for everyone please, Alfred!”

Steph snorted, shaking her head and plopping down onto the floor. “You’re all horrible people,” she repeated.

“Merry Christmas,” Cass said.

Steph threw her head back and laughed.

She couldn’t believe she loved these people.

 


End file.
